


Of Good Men and Ghosts

by IntoTheRiverStyx



Series: The Stories We Tell [10]
Category: Arthurian Mythology
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:40:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27769189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IntoTheRiverStyx/pseuds/IntoTheRiverStyx
Summary: All things must come to an end. As the unusually hard winter gives way to spring, the Company moves on to places their stories have not yet taken root.Not terribly far away, a man whose life had been thought lost to the cruel gift the fair folk gave him tries to make what's left of his life now that the gift has been severed.
Relationships: Bedivere/Kay (Arthurian)
Series: The Stories We Tell [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1608088
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Of Good Men and Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> Yes hello this series is not dead!

He could not have been more alone in the over-crowded tavern if he had made an effort to do so. Everything about him – his scars, his posture, his size, the fury he knew still burned behind his eyes from wrongs so long past the world around him had long moved on to newer stories – should have made him stand out, but he had come here so often since he'd settled here with his family that he might as well be a part of the bar itself.

He'd been alone for years, first to madness then to just being _lost_ and then to the phantoms that still threatened to rise up and overtake his mind despite having found his way back to his family. They'd relocated as soon as they'd reunited, desperate for a place where nobody knew their names. His children who thought him dead were nearly grown now and he'd give near anything to have been able to watch them grow.

Well. He told himself that, but if given the chance he would turn it down; he already knew what costs wishes incurred. 

Camelot, he knew, had fallen while he was being driven across the wilds by the consequences of his own selfish wish. Whether or not there had been survivors he had known in his better days was a mystery. There was one thing he knew for sure, though: At least one of the boys he was supposed to protect had fallen and the spell had broken.

He did not drink heavily – quite the opposite, really. He was careful to water down his every serving of ale, but the type of alone the crowded tavern afforded him made room for thoughts that genuinely felt like they were his. It was not that his wife and children made him feel as if he was not himself, but rather that their care ran so deeply that it rarely did more than remind him what was still broken within himself. He would never deprive them of the ways they showed their love, and they would not try to take him away from whatever he needed to right his head.

He never had the words to say all this to them; he hoped they knew anyway.

It had been a long, hard winter. The snowfall had been unprecedented and too many people had lost animals. Whispers of nearby villages that had lost _people_ had started to trickle in as the roads became passable again. He pitied those families. He was glad he did not share their grief.

He had enough of his own grief to carry.

–

“I can't believe it's spring already,” Galahad said as he beat the winter's dust and soot out of his riding clothes.

“I can't believe we didn't lose anyone this winter,” John added, “You four really...” It seemed as if he might pause, but his words didn't come again.

Bedivere preempted Kai's retort and hit Kai with his stick instead of his riding clothes.

“Oi!” Kai barked.

“Even you,” John tried to hide his mirth, “despite what you try to tell yourself.”

“He's right,” Bedivere went back to beating his clothes.

“If you didn't know how to rest,” John was staring at Galahad while he addressed Kai, “the scrawny one would have bit it the first day of snowfall.”

“Scrawny!?” Galahad squawked.

“I think that was a group effort that I missed entirely,” Kai ignored Galahad's protests at John's descriptor.

“I couldn't've told him to do a damned thing,” John's tone was suddenly serious, “and I've seen how these boys look at you; you're the one they default to, and somewhere in watching you listen to yourself, they've learned to yield before it kills them.”

“And really,” Mordred added, “I've tried convincing him to do something he didn't want to do before that day and it had never worked before.”

“You're a good teacher,” Galahad shrugged.

“If you had told me I'd be the one yielding first before,” Kai paused, “before, well, all this,” he gestured at his leg, “I would have done worse than laugh in your face.”

“It's a good trait,” John's tone hadn't lightened at all, “learning to yield to pride.”

“Sounds like a hard-won lesson,” Bedivere was, somehow, still the only one among them whose social graces were in easy reach at any given moment.

“Someone else won it for me,” John confided, “Someone I loved very dearly.”

“I am sure you'd win it for him given the chance,” Bedivere wasn't looking at anybody.

“And several other lessons he won for the both of us,” John had busied himself with inspecting everyone's saddle leathers for signs of wear or rot, “I have no doubt he loved me, too, but he loved the dreams we shared even more.”

“Dreams,” Bedivere licked his lips as if tasting the word, “I am sorry, friend.”

“No sorrow about it,” John said with a heavy sigh, “And before you ask, no, I do not want his stories told such that those who come after us might give him a better ending, or a better life. He'd have hated that.”

“What about your dreams?” Kai asked, “Might we keep the dreams you shared alive by weaving them into our stories?”

“We dreamed of a world where riches were not what made men great,” John had gone still, “but rather merit. Genuine selflessness. Sacrifice for the sake of it rather than the fame.”

“Those are dreams I would be honored to keep alive,” Kai told John.

“As would I,” Galahad added.

“Those are dreams I hope the world shares one day,” Bedivere walked over to John and put a hand on his shoulder, “We will do our best.”

“And if we cannot do our best, we will rest and continue when we can,” Mordred added. 

When Bedivere turned back around, there was a small, proud smile on his face.

“You four sure you're leaving tomorrow?” John asked, “Roads might still be hard to pass if you go much further north.”

“We'll need to build our stores back up,” Kai replied.

“Ah, right,” John almost suppressed a grimace, “The only reason we didn't lose anyone to hunger is because you know how to stretch food thinner than any man I've ever met.”

“Practice,” Kai shrugged, “I would not ask you to share your stores with us. But we will need to find a market.”

“Town about half-day's ride west has a market every Sunday,” John informed them, “from first thaw to first freeze, sometimes even later. Should be having their first market tomorrow.”

“Well,” Kai lowered his stick and paused his cleaning, “if it's a half-day's ride and the market's tomorrow I guess it doesn't make sense to leave now.”

–

Galahad had his mouth full of bread when he said, “And was no one going to say I'm not scrawny?”

“Maybe not compared to most people,” Mordred was entirely too amused by the question, “but Bedivere and I look like we could snap you in half and not notice, and Kai has half an arm's length on you.”

“Kai has half an arm's length on all of us,” Galahad countered.

“Speaking of Kai, where is he?” Mordred asked.

“Gone to bed, if I had to guess,” Galahad looked to where Bedivere was leaning with his elbows on the bar.

“Still a bit too early to sleep,” Mordred noted.

“He's sulking,” Galahad rolled his eyes, “He was praised, like, more than once in the span of a few minutes without a chance to strike it down and now he's sulked off before it can happen again.”

“I understand why he gets like that,” Mordred frowned, “but I really wish he wouldn't.”

John was standing next to Bedivere, facing the rest of the tavern instead of the bar as Bedivere was but resting on his elbows nonetheless.

“Do you think he's jealous?” Galahad asked as he jerked his chin in the general direction of the bar.

“Of John?” Mordred was almost too loud, “Why on Earth would he be jealous of John?”

Galahad gave Mordred a pointed look while he waited for Mordred's mind to catch up with his mouth.

“I think Bedivere's too Kai-centric to even consider doing anything that would make Kai jealous,” Mordred shook his head, “You...you were being talked down from a trance or something when it was just Bedivere and I talking, but the way Bedivere reacted when I realized he's in love with Kai...”

“Of course I'd miss that,” Galahad muttered, “What happened?”

“The way he was talking about Kai,” Mordred drummed his fingers on the edge of the table, “it was so obvious and the words were out of my mouth before I knew the thought had formed. Bedivere...he just went _cold_ and started snapping at me to go upstairs. Kai met us half-way up the staircase to tell me you were asking for me, which gave me a way to escape from whatever was about to happen.”

“Ah, yeah,” Galahad closed his eyes, “That night.”

“Which,” Mordred's fingers stilled, “Why did you ask for me?”

“It's easier,” the remainder of Galahad's supper bread was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world, “when you're there.”

“When I'm,” Mordred echoed.

“Yeah,” Galahad managed to offer a small, sad smile without looking up.

“I've been a bit daft, haven't I?” Mordred realized.

Galahad laughed so loud and long that by the time he managed to quiet himself all eyes were on them.

“Can we have this conversation later?” Galahad asked after a few measures of silence had given way to the tavern's usual din returning, “I cannot have this conversation tonight.”

“Uh,” Mordred blinked a few times, “Sure. Yeah. Later.”

Galahad patted Mordred's shoulder a few times, eyes full of both mirth and something _tired_.

–

“Where will you go?” John asked.

“I don't know,” Bedivere told him the truth, “We've never really had a destination in mind.”

“Which,” it was clear John was doing his best to pick his words carefully, “somehow you four have been here for months and I still have no idea where you came from.”

“And I have no idea where you came from before you landed here,” Bedivere gave John a pointed look, “I will be willing to wager that, for reasons wildly different from ours, you've done that intentionally.”

“You four are good men,” John let his head fall back so he was looking up at the ceiling, “I do not know if I will ever be able to call myself that.”

“Good men do not call themselves good men,” Bedivere's voice was a quiet thing, “They do not need to, for others will announce it for them.”

“Hmn,” John grunted, “I suppose, though you four have more experience in living the notion of being good men.”

“Says the man who gave away half his own stores so his neighbors wouldn't starve,” Bedivere was quick to add.

“Only lasted because of,” John looked around, “Where is he?”

“Upstairs,” Bedivere sighed, “As soon as the wall torches were lit, he snuck upstairs like his absence wouldn't be noticed.”

“Do you think he could be convinced to come back down?” John asked, “Word that it's your last night here is spreading fast and if he doesn't come down here, I fear the town may take their good-byes to him.”

Bedivere's laugh drew a few eyes, though nowhere near as many as Galahad's earlier laughing fit had.

“I want to see how this plays out,” Bedivere was grinning, “I'd put money down the first person to try to say goodbye to his face results in him wandering back down here like it was his idea and not a fear of how many other people are about to crowd into our room.”

John chuckled before he added: “I hope you two are forever able to be as close as you are now.”

“It's a new thing,” Bedivere couldn't help the smile that accompanied the words.

“Really?” John blinked a few times, “It seems...old.”

“Perhaps it could have been,” was all Bedivere said in reply.

“I hope it has the chance to be,” John meant it.

–

Three out of their four horses protested a bit at being saddled after seasons in the pasture, but they all got used to it once they were a few hours' ride away from the town.

“It's weird to think all that started because Bedivere stabbed a deer to death,” Mordred said to the open air.

“A half-starved animal let us feel what it might be like if we ever put roots down,” Kai shook his head and missed Bedivere suddenly sitting up much straighter in his saddle, “It's going to be rough getting used to sleeping outside again.”

“But nice in its own way,” Galahad was quick to add, “That town, those people especially, they were _lovely_ and I hope time never takes my memories of them away from me. But we have stories to tell.”

“Even more, now,” Bedivere agreed.

“I am glad John turned out to be a friend, in the end,” Mordred said absently, “Do you think he would have come with us if we'd've asked him?”

“No,” Bedivere shook his head and forced himself to relax a little bit, “Whatever lead him to that village...he feels he owes the people in it a debt that he will not be able to repay in this lifetime.”

“Or the next,” Kay added, “Still, I am also thankful he turned out to be a friend.”

“Oh, yeah, you two had a rough start, didn't you?” Galahad asked.

“Moreso than we would have if my damned leg had been a leg and not a burden,” Kay muttered. 

“Your wounds were never your fault,” Mordred seemed surprised by the words he was saying, “Not the first time, or the second, or now.”

“You did what less-skilled men would have failed at,” Galahad added, slightly less sure, “In this world, and others.”

“Don't,” Kai warned.

“They're right,” Bedivere ignored the warning that held a request somewhere deep inside it, “You aren't a burden, Kai, and your leg is a part of you.”

Kai fell silent and Bedivere drove his horse next to Kai, making sure the animals were in step with each other before he dropped his reigns to reach out his hand and grip Kai's thigh.

“I've never lied to you,” Bedivere told him, “and I have no plans to start now.”

Galahad and Mordred watched in silence as _something_ passed between the older men. When Bedivere's hand finally returned his hand to the reigns, Kai's shoulders seemed to be held a little prouder.

–

The market would have been half a day's ride had the horses been used to riding like they were when they set out. Months in the pasture had made them slightly lazy. Kai was thankful they'd left so early that morning. If they'd left at a reasonable hour, they may have missed the market entirely.

Instead, the market was dwindling down. People who'd carted their goods into the town's open lot – a space clearly reserved for markets and festivals – were still selling, but their wares were half-sold and there were far fewer people than one would expect in a market that size.

“What do we need?” Bedivere asked, “And don't say _everything, _I'll buy a pig to trail behind the horses if you say that.”__

__Kai snorted and shook his head as he dismounted, careful as to which leg he landed on. “We need to stable the horses first, then we can look through our bags and see what survived the winter.”_ _

__“You? Going into a market without a list?” Mordred teased._ _

__“Haven't gone into the market yet,” Kai's tone was equally teasing, “Come, let's give the beasts a break and then see what the market has to offer.”_ _

__–_ _

__He had spent most of the morning whittling away at a block of wood, trying to turn it into a toy for his youngest child. A boy, a darling boy, brought into their family despite everything. The child, young Elyan, was just beginning to be able to move around their little house on his own._ _

__It was an adjustment for everyone, having a small child moving around and grabbing their things, but it was a welcome thing. His older children were delighted by their youngest brother and his wife was one of the most caring women he'd ever met, and somehow even more caring for her own children._ _

__He had no idea where he'd gotten the idea of carving Elyan a toy, but once the idea was there, it was stuck. Truth be told, the only things he'd whittled before were skewers to roast meat over campfires._ _

__“Hey,” his wife said gently from behind him, well over arm's length away. He both hated that she knew sometimes the memories of war and heaven made startling him a dangerous things and loved her for how easily she adjusted without comment or fear._ _

__“Hey,” he said as he put the knife and the block of wood that did not yet resemble a toy at all down on the table and turned around to face her, “Everything alright?”_ _

__“Very,” her smile was a warm thing that would forever feel like home to him, “Would you mind going to the market today?”_ _

__“I can go,” he rose to his feet, “Not sure what I'll be able to get this late.”_ _

__“As much of our usual as you can,” she told him, “If there are chickens or goats, one of each.”_ _

__“If you hear about a fool chasing a goat with a chicken under his arm across the streets, please send one of the kids to collect the goat,” he laughed and planted a kiss on her forehead._ _

__She laughed and ducked her head, inviting him to kiss her forehead again. He did and they both laughed._ _

__He wished he could have moments like this one without the regret for needed to escape his own head that left her alone far too late into the night._ _

__“I'll try to come back without loosing any animals on our neighbors,” he promised, “Love you.”_ _

__“Love you,” she told him._ _

__“Always,” he promised._ _

__–_ _

__Bedivere had given up keeping track of Galahad, Mordred, _of_ Kai as they all loosed themselves on the unsuspecting market._ _

__It was almost funny, watching them scatter, gravitating towards whichever booth they were most excited about. There had been no lists made, no plan scratched out despite Kai's earlier declaration. Bedivere knew why: their stores were completely empty, and without being able to replenish at least enough to get them to the next city – cities always had more than enough for travelers should the travelers have more than enough coin – they would be at the mercy of the land. The thought of relying on the land despite the first thaw feeling like a false promise of spring that made every survival instinct he'd trained away from the front of his awareness so he could go to war roar back to life._ _

__He did not know how much Kai had swiped in coin from the ruins of Camelot – he did not ask because he did not want to know. The reserves were for emergencies that could not be solved through more traditional means such as bloodshed and mediation. No, the reserves were for hypotheticals such as a curse on the lands that rendered the soil unable to grow crops or all the animals passing in a mass event._ _

__The reserves were meant to keep the people of Camelot alive even if it meant those loyal to the throne starved in the process._ _

__The fact that Kai – Sir Kai, who'd spent most of his lifetime counting those reserves and making sure the entire kingdom could survive a disaster – took the coins meant Camelot was never coming back._ _

__There would come a day when they would need to do more than light work for pay and provisions, and Bedivere would rather live those days now and save the coins for later in their lives when time began to wear on them in ways sleep and hot water could not relieve._ _

__It was a risk that by that time they may need to melt the coins down and re-stamp them with whatever stamp was most recognizable, but he knew for a fact both Mordred and himself knew how to work a smithy._ _

__Bedivere was pulled from his thoughts by a scream that sounded too much like Galahad to not start sprinting towards the sound._ _

__He reached for a sword that was still strapped to his horse more than once as if he could will it to his side._ _

__If anything happened to Galahad..._ _

**Author's Note:**

> After I rushed the end of _Once More Unto the Breach_ and wound up hating the ending so much I took the whole thing down, I promised myself I wouldn't do the same thing to _The Stories We Tell_. So I took a break from the series to get my head on a bit more secure and am finally at a place I can continue this series.
> 
> TSWT means so much to me and I have so many hopes for this series.
> 
> For those of you who've been waiting for the next installment: thank you. I'm glad you're here.


End file.
